


Their Breakups

by slagsmacker



Category: Scrubs
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-17
Updated: 2011-04-17
Packaged: 2017-10-18 05:10:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/185383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slagsmacker/pseuds/slagsmacker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'We've been dancing the same annoying dance for years now. One of us gets angry and walks away, and the other person is too stubborn to go after them'</p><p>Ten breakups, of one sort or another.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Their Breakups

**Author's Note:**

> Perry and Jordan have long been an OTP of mine. Since I am currently on a Scrubs high, I figured I would try to write something about their convoluted history. I don't think any of this contradicts what we learnt on the show (with the possible exception of which Sullivan is the older sibling). The years are guesses, based on each character's approximate age/broadcast dates. The last three sections correlate directly with the following episodes - 2.02, 2.22 and 4.03.

**1988**

Jordan supposes God might be punishing her for the whole abortion deal. Just as likely, the Devil (her mother) is warning her against spending another year slumming it with guys too poor to own a Porsche. Either way, _someone_ must be responsible for rooming her with a college freshman _so_ spectacularly annoying.

It’s not the fact Hannah Hosanna is a Christian. It’s not even her dress sense, all flat shoes and skirts long enough to stuff into her gaping mouth.

It’s that she won’t take a glare/hint and leave Jordan the hell alone.

For example, right now she is prancing around, peering in boxes Jordan (who has been _very_ busy drinking and deciding which mindless jock to violate first) hasn’t had time to unpack.

“Oh adorable,” Susie Sunshine coos, clutching a photograph in her hand, “is this your boyfriend?”

Jordan can’t imagine what she is looking at. Her last actual boyfriend was that guy from Nantucket and, once she’d gotten pregnant by his best friend, there didn’t seem much point in keeping any nice mementoes.

She snatches the picture out of her roommate’s hand. Of course, it’s one of Benji’s sneak attacks, taken during summer at the bar near Sacred Heart (Ben liked it cause they’d actually serve him, Jordan enjoyed pretending she owned everyone who trickled in from the hospital). In the centre of the image, she and Perry are standing too close together. Jordan can’t remember that particular night, but they are definitely on the way to fighting or fucking.

Or both.

The irritating specimen hasn’t buzzed off and is now peering over her shoulder.

“He’s cute,”

Jordan hates to agree with her (or, god forbid, _his_ inflated sense of self), but she is right. Perry is wearing a tight shirt, showing off his increasingly impressive abs. They must have bumped into each other after a good shift because his chest is puffed out arrogantly. He looks enough like an actual Doctor, not the unstable, emotional intern who sometimes shows up, to make Jordan consider swinging by the hospital that weekend.

“Well…are you two going steady?”

Jordan gags and wonders how Doris Day managed to time travel from the 1950s. Anyone with eyes and working teenage hormones should be able to tell she and Perry are not a couple. They’re just two _completely separate_ people who enjoy a meaningless orgasm once in a while.

She spins around fast enough to dislodge the girl from her person.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Jordan asserts forcefully, “He’s just some guy I fuck in hospital closets, and bar bathrooms…and one time in my Mom’s bed.”

Little Miss Sunshine blanches. Jordan gives her a patronizing pat on the cheek,

“ _Great_ chat though.”

She smirks, then saunters off, the picture still in hand. Per-Per will get a kick out of this story next time she sees him.

 

**1990**

Perry enters his crummy apartment with a bang, slamming the door hard enough to make the whole room shake. He is about to do the guy thing - pull off his pants, grab a beer and distract himself with any televised sport - when he spots Jordan on his couch.

“Hello Sunshine,” she waves mockingly.

Jordan’s make-up is perfect, suggesting she is here for the duration. Perry grimaces. He hopes his angry entrance left a hole in the wall for Ben to fix. After all, if the less annoying Sullivan hadn’t decided to drop out of college, move in and pursue a _ri-hi -diculous_ career as a foreman, perhaps his sister wouldn’t be here all the god damn time.

Of course, whenever he yells this at Ben, the moron just tells him to man up and admit he loves her already.

Honestly, both Sullivans are intolerable.

Perry pours himself a scotch (one of the perks of the _ever so slight_ pay rise he received for kissing Bobbo‘s ass long enough to become a resident) and slumps down next to Jordan. She is about to speak, but he raises a hand in warning.

“Bah-buh…I have had the day from hell and I am naawt in the mood for Satan’s bride…that would be you Princess…making things worse.”

A normal woman would bristle. However, they’ve been doing this (on and off) for almost three years. Jordan is used to it, she can give as good as she gets.

“Fine Sally Sensitive, I’ll leave you to your tears . I’m sure the guy with the _fabulous_ body at my gym can be persuaded,”

Jordan gets up, but she is slow and doesn’t look at all surprised when he pulls her back down onto his lap. She smiles a shit eating grin and drops her voice,

“Or I could kiss it better…”

Jordan’s teeth graze his earlobe and Perry thinks vaguely, _at least her fangs are good for something_.  
 ---

Later, after finally making it to the bed, Jordan rolls away and, for a second time that night, attempts to leave. Perry, too warm and exhausted to let go, slings an arm across her hips, pinning her against the mattress.

“Stay,” he gruffly commands (they never ask each other anything).

Once upon a time, she would have bitten off the offending limb. However, in the last year or so, this has become their routine. Jordan turns over and warns,

“Alright, but no talking,”

When Perry is like this, satiated and just knowing Ben (son of a bitch) is right, he takes what he can get. He pulls Jordan into his bare chest and feels their bodies relax together. Before Jordan can fall asleep (the girl is like a frat boy when it comes to sex) he presses his mouth lightly against her shoulder,

“Say Jordaroo…”

He doesn’t speak the offensive l-word, but her muscles lock as though he did,

“Shut up Perry. I’ve been offered a job in New York …I’m going to take it.”

Well that was that.

It’s probably for the best - he’s a 28 year old workaholic, she’s an absolute witch and they’re both too immature to make this work.

“Finally, I’ll get some peace,” he snaps.

It’s meant to sound biting, but his heart isn’t in it.

 

**1994**

Jordan knows it is unpleasant and unattractive to want what you can’t have. She did it as a child with Danni’s dolls, does it as an adult with Danni’s boyfriends and, now, as she spots Perry across the room (an insipid blonde hanging off his arm), feels the urge rush back again.

As far as being unpleasant goes, the rest of her personality isn‘t exactly sunshine and light, so _whatever_. On the other hand, she always tries to be attractive, and mooning over some guy she left five years ago certainly won’t help her charm the rich, old men at Sacred Heart’s annual fundraiser

So she mingles amongst the corpses and does her level best to ignore Per-Per. She’s successful too, until she glances up and notices him pull an epic, ‘bored now, gonna rant,’ face towards his date. Jordan used to get that look whenever she (deliberately) annoyed him with vacuous, Valley Girl comments. Seems like Malibu Barbie is still not his favorite toy.

She struts over, her expensive heels sinking into the cheap, hotel carpet and reaches Perry just before he opens his mouth,

“Save your breath,” Jordan places a hand on the small of his back, “I’ll do it for you.”

She rounds on his date, who doesn‘t know what is about to hit her.

“Sweetie, I’ll spell this out in simple words so you can understand. You’ve been dropped quicker than you usually drop your panties. Run along now,”

The girl looks taken aback, but also relieved to be offered an escape. Jordan doesn’t blame her, as far as she can remember, Perry is a total pain in the ass when forced to wear a bow tie.

“I see no one in New York taught you how behave like a decent human being.”

Perry’s banter is a little sharper than it used to be, apparently he has interns to practice on these days, but (for once in his life) he doesn’t seem particularly angry. He also doesn’t seem surprised by her presence. Doubtless, Ben warned him the novelty of employment had faded enough for Jordan to return to the West Coast.

“Honestly, did you rent her, or did you just blow her up once you left the house?”

Jordan grabs Perry’s glass before he can raise it to his lips and clearly catches the smile he is trying to choke down at this remark. Deep, deep inside she feels something approaching warmth. She knocks back the rest of his drink and holds out a hand,

“Stop thinking about whatever patient you killed today and come and dance,”

“Oh sweetheart, if you missed me that much, just go ahead and say. I’d rather naawt have you coiled around me like a snake…”

He’s mouthing off, but he follows her onto the dance floor.

Jordan tucks her head under his chin and thanks the heavens he didn’t douse himself with horrible cologne once she left. For a second they don’t know what to do with their hands, they didn’t exactly go for dinner and dancing last time round, then Perry grabs her hips and everything falls into place.

Since she ran his rent-a-date off, Perry is no longer unavailable.

Unusually, Jordan still wants this.

 

**1995**

“ So Jordalicious, how many guys was it this time?”

Somewhere, deep in the bowels of hell, Perry’s father is laughing at his whipped son for driving a girlfriend home whilst asking how many men she has cheated with (‘once a bitch, always a bitch,’ he used to say before the bottle throwing began).

“Does making out count?”

“Only if it’s longer than ten seconds.”

Jordan keeps her eyes screwed shut, the hangover must really be kicking in, but she manages to raise a closed fist,

“Zero.”

Well that’s progress.

When she returned from New York, Jordan had seemed too sophisticated to get up to her old tricks. Sure she’d been good looking when they first met, but she’d also been very young. Now she is beautiful, all hard lines and stunning confidence. Perry thought she wouldn’t want to sleep around. _Bo-oy_ was he wrong.

Still, they’d never been exclusive before, maybe it just took some adjustment. For Perry, it was learning how to go on dates without wanting to stab his eyes out with a fork. For Jordan it was understanding she didn’t have to devour every attractive person who crossed her path. And, honestly, they seemed to be making it work… in their own dysfunctional way.

Then Danni’s 18th birthday rolled around and Perry recognized the potential for disaster.

Officially, Jordan was there as an adult chaperone. Unofficially, she was at a party full of barely legal boys (her favorite), boys who were rich enough to aggravate the precious little princess inside.

Perry tries not to be jealous. However, he comes from a long line of hot-headed bastards, and the thought of what _could_ have happened makes him grit his teeth and grip the steering wheel tightly. Before Jordan’s surprising count, he had planned to dump her ass on the front doorstep, drive away and not look back. Now he unclenches and feels a little like taking care of her. Not as Dr Cox either, but in an, ‘I am crazy about this woman,’ kind of way.

The car jerks to a halt outside her apartment and Jordan lurches forward, grabbing her head,

“Careful idiot,” she barks.

Just because he’s madly in love doesn’t mean he’s going to take any of her shit.

“Keep harping and I’ll drive you back. I’m sure there are enough unconscious bodies to keep you warm.”

Jordan sighs in exasperation.

“Listen carefully Perry, I. didn’t. cheat,” she pauses and looks like she’s about to confess a horrible crime, “I didn’t even _want_ to.”

As far as declarations of commitment go, it’s certainly not traditional. It is, however, the best he is going to get, and more than enough to prod him into action before she kills herself over showing any hint of affection.

“Jordan,” he grabs her hand, figuring there is a fifty/fifty chance she will try to hit him, “will you marry me?”

She cracks her eyes open,

“Do you have a ring?”

“Well, no, I didn‘t exactly plan on doing this in a car with a hung-over she beast”

“Buy a ring…a big one…then ask me again.”

God (who he _so_ doesn’t believe in) help him, Perry is going to take that as a yes.

 

**1996**

Jordan can sense Perry glowering from across the decking. She shoots a smile at the man who just bought her a cocktail,

“Limbo champion you say?”

Her new husband growls and downs the rest of his beer (the only thing at the beach bar that came without a, ‘fruity umbrella,’). He looks mad enough to make tonight interesting. Good.

The guy in front of her seems entranced. Too bad Jordan now follows a, ‘look don’t touch,’ policy. That’s not to say she won’t pretend otherwise. If Perry thinks he can be a jackass and drink their honeymoon away, he’s got another thing coming.

She stares hungrily at Champ’s abs,

“So what’s your name?”

Perry gets up and starts to stride over.

Jordan is about to suck on her straw (the old, obvious ones are sometimes the best) when he reaches them,

“Alright ladies, lets break it up,”

He hoists Jordan into his arms and heads towards the shore. Her target looks confused, but is too much of a pussy to do anything as Perry shouts over his shoulder,

“This one has eaten enough souls for today.”

Jordan would struggle, but she is kind of interested to see where this is going. Plus, it’s such a turn on when Per-Per actually remembers he has balls.

They reach the waves and, instead of putting her down, Perry strides into the water. Jordan’s not one for sappy wish fulfillment. However, she does remember a, ’novel,’ she once stole from her Mother (for educational purposes) and is not opposed to role-playing some bored housewife’s romantic, vacation fantasy. As they continue to move, she slides a hand up his toned bicep, twisting her fingers through the curls at the back of his neck. She is about to whisper something obscene in his ear…

When Perry drops her.

For a second, Jordan stares at the underwater scenery in confusion. Then she realizes what has happened and emerges, spitting salt, with strings of hair stuck to her forehead,

“You better start swimming because I am going to _kill_ you,”

He swipes his nose in an all too familiar fashion,

“You needed to cool off _darling_ ,”

Jordan moves towards him, fully intending to break both his thumbs. Then she notices the way he is smiling, grinning like a little boy who has gotten away with something naughty. Thank God. This is the smug, irritating man she wanted to marry. Not the misery who spent the first two days of their honeymoon looking like he was stuck in the biggest mistake of his life.

Before Perry can leave to top up his blood alcohol level, Jordan wraps both her legs around his waist.

“You’re a jerk,”

It must have come out a little too softly, because Perry looks at her with suspicion,

“What’s wrong with you?”

As is often the case, Jordan can‘t be bothered to explain herself.

Instead, she nips at the corner of his mouth, then runs her tongue along his lips as they part. Perry may not know what is going on, but he sure responds quick enough. He brings one hand up to cup her jaw (slipping the other, ever so slightly, inside her bikini bottoms - he is a guy after all) and moves in for a proper, heart skips-a-beat, kind of kiss.

The moon is glowing and the waves are lapping. Jordan doesn’t even have to pretend. This _is_ romantic (urgh).

 

**2000**

As far as Perry is concerned, the biggest benefit of their crumbling relationship is the cold war which follows each big blow out. Before they (stupidly) got married, their bickering could go on for hours. Perry didn’t mind, it was like a sport - a stimulating, sexy sport. Now they fight as if they hate each other and, half the time, Perry antagonizes Jordan just to induce that simmering, _blessedly silent_ , stage of resentment.

Tonight he’s not so lucky. He has just settled onto the game room couch (the only place in the Sullivan hellhole that doesn‘t make his skin crawl) when Jordan marches in. She is carrying a bag in her hand and, without ceremony, throws it at his chest.

“Get out,” she demands.

Perry doesn’t know why she has her panties all knotted. It’s not like he asked her mother if giving birth to Jordan was as relentless a chore as being married to her…at the stuffy family Christmas party….in front of all of their, ‘friends,‘ and relatives.

Oh wait.

Grabbing his stuff viciously, Perry gets up to go. It’s not all bad, this way he avoids pretending to be happy (well, as happy as either of them ever get) during tomorrow’s _horrendous_ holiday festivities.

Plus, the hospital always needs him.

He doesn’t say a word as he passes her in the hallway. She still has her fancy dress on, a deep red, figure hugging number designed to show off her cosmetically enhanced curves (he certainly hadn‘t complained about the new boobs, but each progressive surgery makes it easier for him to pretend she‘s someone else when they fuck). A few years ago he might have tried to fix this, but now he’s sick of it all. Him, her, them. Everything is a mess.

\----

Before driving all the way to Sacred Heart, Perry decides to swing by their apartment and grab a change of clothes. As soon as he walks through the door he spots a red light flashing on the answering machine. He clicks replay and bares his teeth when Jordan’s sharp voice filters through the room.

“I’m staying out here for a couple of weeks,”

 _Easy enough to do honey,_ he thinks bitterly,  _it’s not like you have a job other than re-he-heally pissing me off_.

“Don’t bother visiting, because I _will_ pull your balls through your nose….”

Delightful. Perry can still hear her on the line so waits for the finishing shot. It doesn’t come and, in the pause, he wonders how they got to this point. He thinks maybe they are allergic to marriage. Neither of them are very good at being obligated to do things (or have feelings) for each other.  During those first few years, when he made the effort to get home and she could still get over herself, they battled through and had some fun. Now, wedding rings or not, Perry feels like they were always going to turn sour.

“…if you feel like apologizing, you know the number…”

Jordan almost sounds hurt. Perry runs a hand down his face, his issues are much easier to ignore when she acts like an emotionless Terminator,

“…but don’t think I’ll listen.”

And there it is.

Perry pulls the telephone out the wall, breaking the cord in the process. He heads off to work.

 

**2001**

A knocking on her door startles Jordan awake. She considers ignoring it, but the tapping continues (in an obnoxious rhythm, no less) long enough to make her get out of bed.

“One minute,” she shouts peevishly and walks straight into a hallway cabinet.

 _Mother of fuck_ , she thinks as pain radiates through her toe. Just another thing to hold against Perry. If she hadn’t had to move out of their apartment, she wouldn’t be stumbling around like an idiot in this dark, strange place.

After fumbling with the locks for what seems like an eternity, Jordan swings open the door and is greeted by her vagrant brother’s grinning face.

“Sister of mine!”

Typical -  he takes off to Europe, misses all the drama, then turns up in the middle of the night like nothing has even happened. Before she realizes it‘s coming, a flash goes off in her face,

“Smile for the divorce album,”

“I swear Benji I am going to put that camera under a moving truck,” her voice is threatening, but she slips to one side to let him in.

Ben tries to loop his arms around her waist like an annoying child. Jordan bats him away,

“When did you get back?”

“Last week,”

“Have you called Mom?”

“Oh twenty questions, my favorite game.”

Jordan rolls her eyes,

“Have you seen Per?”

“Mmm hmm…”

Ben sits on her coffee table (chairs are for normal people apparently) and doesn’t immediately elaborate. Jordan wants to ask him what Perry said, but pride won’t let her. Besides, she can guess how their conversation went. A few choice words, some stories about her sleeping around the hospital, a lot of huffing and puffing. Her estranged husband is nothing if not predictable.

“…so, I hear you’ve been a busy girl.”

Yup, she was right,

“Tattle-tale every detail did he?”

Jordan doubts it. She bets Perry didn’t tell Ben about how miserable they were the year (or more) before Pete. She bets he didn’t say how he would leave the room those few times she tried to talk anything out. She _knows_ he will never admit, although he found his wife and his protégée in bed together, she was the one who finally grew a pair and asked for a divorce

Ben twirls the strap of his stupid camera between his fingers and looks like he is figuring out what to say. Whilst she is waiting, Jordan settles into an armchair and props her feet on her brother’s knees. He begins to play this little piggy with her toes,

“Jordaroo,” she hates that nickname and can’t remember whether he or Perry came up with it, “you should back off a little, he’s a mess.”

Jordan translates, ‘back off,’ as, ‘stop mounting his colleagues,’ and feels a hot rush of anger. She wants to ask Ben if he thinks she feels any better? However, she’s his older sister - even when he grew a good foot taller, he always treated her like she was invincible. Perry is his best friend. She knows whose side Ben is going to take.

“Seriously,” whenever Ben starts a sentence with, ‘seriously,’ Jordan knows it’s not going to be, “He so sad.”

Ben pulls a frowny face and Jordan kicks him lightly in the stomach. He shifts over to share her seat.

“So what happens now?”

It’s probably a bad sign when someone who hasn’t been in the country for a year knows hell will have to freeze over before Jordan and Perry reconcile.

“Well we have to be separated for six months before we file for divorce.”

Which, of course, makes Jordan crankier than usual. She just wants this over and done with.

Ben pinches her cheek,

“You’re looking kinda tired sis, maybe you should go on holiday.”

Jordan considers it. It would be nice to go some place where she didn’t have to maintain maximum-level bitch face. Plus, she is going to hit the limit of none creepy possibilities at Sacred Heart very, very soon. Ben clasps his hands and raises his voice to a level (only) he finds funny,

“Oh I know this fabulous place in Italy. There’ll be sun, and sand and lots of pool boys for you to play with…”

That decides it.

Jordan will leave for a few months. Recuperate. Then, when she gets back and the proceedings are in full swing, she will make Perry _pay._

 

**2002**

Perry is searching for his shirt, hoping to locate it before Jordan emerges from the bedroom. If he’s lucky he might also find his dignity, however he figures she locked that away a long, long time ago.

He moves about twenty copies of Cosmo (why do women need a new magazine _and_ a new a handbag every month?) and peers below her coffee table. Ever since he admitted to Carla she was _oh so right_ about his feelings, Perry has imagined shacking up with Jordan again. Until now, he’d forgotten all the mundane crap that comes along with her.

Not that it matters anymore. She’d given him a chance, but Bobbo’s party put a bullet through that. Perry thinks his shrink, - plus the second one he goes to just to avoid punching the first - will love this story. Good ol’ Dr Cox ruins yet another relationship (or the same one, over and over again) by opening his gigantic mouth.

At least he was telling the truth. Bob Kelso _is_ the devil.

Jordan finally makes an appearance, fully dressed, every hair on her head in perfect place. She stops by a mirror and examines the livid red marks around her collarbone,

“See Per-Per…“ Jordan raises an eyebrow, fingering a bruise pointedly, “…we’re only good at angry, shallow sex.”

In his defense, she wouldn’t stop moaning other people’s names. Also, normally when a guy fails a test of love, Perry is pretty sure the woman doesn’t express her anger by fucking him raw into the mattress. He should ask Newbie if his favorite girly romance ends with a disappointed demon tackling the groveling male-lead down to the ground.

He supposes Jordan is trying to prove a point. They started life as a sex only couple and, one hellish marriage and separation later, it seems like they will end that way. Perry hates when Jordan is right.

She stops poking at her neck long enough to shoot him a look,

“Well, what are you waiting for?”

It’s funny how one mistake can catapult them back to their heady heights of bitterness.

“Listen doll, nothing would make me happier than high tailing it out of here…if you could just get your minions to bring back my shirt that would be, hands around your throat, _fa-antastic_.”

Perry has gotten used to Janice snapping to attention during his rants,

“It’s under the couch,”

Jordan doesn’t even flinch as she sweeps back to her lair.

He is about to engage in full on war, then remembers the opportunity they are trying to pry open. Jordan may claim this is meaningless, post-divorce sex, but (as much as they both hate to admit it) she hasn’t let him off her leash.  Believing there are still some feelings buried in that deep, dark pit in her chest, Perry bangs on her, now closed, bedroom door.

“Jordan…”

Nothing.

“Jordaroo…”

There is a crash that sounds like a heel hitting the wall.

Fine. Perry is stubborn and narcissistic, but he’s not gonna stick around on the off chance Jordan will realize he’s the only man wanting to put up with her.

Besides, after all these years, maybe it’s time they got over each other.

  
**2003**

When Jordan was a High School Senior her boyfriend left her for a perky (slutty) cheerleader. Rumor was, she’d do more than give him a disdainful hand job in the back of his car. As far as Jordan is concerned, it all came down to boob size (bigger) and hair color (blonder).

Since then, Jordan Sullivan holds a clean record on being dumped. Doubtless the Sacred Heart Brady Bunch - DJ, Stick, that bossy nurse and her basketball headed boyfriend - would babble about, ‘fear of intimacy.’

_Whatever._

Jordan just gets bored quickly. It is easier to drop people before they do something idiotic like buy her flowers

Nevertheless, all that history (blah, blah, blah) goes some way to explaining why she is now so nervous.

See, whenever Jordan imagined telling Perry he was Jack’s father, the thought he could threaten to bail (which, by the by, they have barely managed in the last fifteen years) never crossed her mind. Should she have told Perry she wasn’t harboring some random bellboy’s baby? Probably. However, _she_ was the one who came back. _She’d_ decided they were going to work via sheer force of will. As far as Jordan’s - admittedly twisted - logic is concerned, they are even.

For the second time that night, Jordan gets up and does an irritable circle around the sofa. Sitting back down, she drums her newly painted fingernails against her collarbone. In fairness, Perry is only ten minutes late. Jordan has never been very good at waiting. She considers painting Jack’s toes, but figures his brand new Daddy will not approve.

Finally the front door clicks and Perry strides through, takeout balanced in one hand.

Jordan could say a thousand things. Like how she’s glad he is home, because the doubt in her belly was getting _super_ annoying. Or how, amidst fantasies of killing DJ’s big mouthed friend, she wishes she’d been the one to spill the beans. Or, even, how over the last seven months she has come to love and rely on him more than ever before.

She settles for,

“You’re late,”

At first, Perry ignores her, leaning over the crib to look at Jack with some pansy-ass mix of fear and wonderment.

Jordan clicks her fingers and he almost pays attention. He is still looking at their kid, but at least he offers an explanation,

“Calm down, I was picking up dinner.”

Jordan holds out a hand for the bag and sifts through the food. Chicken, coleslaw, curly fries. Later, she will rip him a new one for thinking she is still fat enough to have pregnancy cravings.

For now, she pulls Perry down, happy (for once) to settle under the warm weight of his arm.

 

**2004**

Perry is dozing when Jordan comes back. Sure, things were heating up before Jack started wailing, but he has had a _re-heally_ long day. For one, a divorce party takes almost as much planning as a wedding. Secondly, drunk Ted was surprisingly hard to carry back into the hospital.

Jordan leans against their bedroom door, shooting him an intense look which could be good…or really, really bad. 

Either way, her shirt is low cut enough to make Perry shake himself awake,

“Come here,” he beckons.

Against all previous form, Jordan doesn’t disagree and wanders over.

When she is within arms reach, Perry grabs a wrist and pulls. She takes the hint and swings a leg onto the bed, straddling his hips.

Unfortunately, the fantasy ends when she opens her mouth,

“By the way Per, big fan of your whole backseat parenting deal. Just _adore_ it.”

Any other day, he would argue. For example, he might remind his ex-wife that she left their son unsupervised at a Spa for three hours last week. However, today is special. Today they were (legally) divorced - making them free enough to admit they will spend the rest of their messed up lives together.

Perry runs his hands over her waist, then digs his thumbs into her jean clad thighs,

“Hey lady…”

Jordan smiles and Perry wonders whether she will automatically shut down if they are too nice to each other within a twenty-four hour period (he’s about to find out),

“…I love you.”

She leans into him until their faces are an inch apart. Despite the effort of a thousand botox needles, Jordan looks older than when they first met. Perry cups her face, covering faint crows-feet and the _ever so slight_ lines around her mouth. He values his life too much to say anything, but he is glad Jordan shows a few signs of wear and tear. It makes their history seem worth it.

Perry figures he must be examining her face too intensely because Jordan surges forward, crushing their mouths together a little harder than is strictly necessary. They have done this a million times. Doesn’t stop him groaning into their kiss, worrying her bottom lip with his teeth and arching his body up off the bed.

Before things get out of hand, Jordan pauses, flicking her hair over one shoulder.

“Today was great and all, but next time we separate, can we make sure DJ doesn’t sing Endless Love?”

Perry flips them, settling on top of Jordan and brushing a few stray strands away from her forehead,

“I hate to break it to you Hunn, and I mean…”

“…The Attila kind, yeah we get it, you‘re funny,”

God she’s a bitch (he‘s not much better),

“…but I think this one is our last.”


End file.
